


mercy

by salvage



Series: you better make me [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, Dominant Hux, M/M, Submissive Kylo Ren, basically hux just kicking the shit out of kylo ren and then sloppily facefucking him, i'm really so very sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvage/pseuds/salvage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Ren knelt on the floor in the middle of the room, hands spread flat on his knees, head bowed so low Hux could only see the dark curls of his hair and, as he paced in a slow circle around him, a pale sliver of the back of his neck where his collar gaped open. He stopped at Ren’s left side: his shining dark hair, trembling slightly; the slope of his back and the curve of his shoulders; his gloved hand gripping his knee. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	mercy

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably definitely the worst thing i've ever done. thanks to my fellow sinners. apologies to the good, pure people in my life who spent half an hour dragging me on my own birthday for liking hux.

Only one person on the Star Cruiser would have the gall to knock on General Hux’s door at 2320 hours, and that person would have only one reason to do so. Hux glanced over at the door, the knocks still ringing in his ears in the silence of the room, then back at the series of reports he still had to read and approve. He skimmed another page of a report detailing an attack on Senator Ro-Kiintor’s personal yacht by a band of pirates. 

A single knock sounded at the door, muffled slightly, as though the person on the other side had begun another series of raps but lost the nerve halfway through. Hux sighed. 

The door to his quarters slid aside to reveal the slightly hunched form of Kylo Ren, sans helmet, cloaked in layers of heavy black fabric that fluttered slightly with the movement of his shoulders as he took an unsteady breath. His hair curled softly around his pale face. His eyes were averted. 

“Enter,” Hux said, stepping aside barely enough to allow Ren to pass, watching the other man hunch his shoulders even more and press his elbows into his sides, gathering his robes so they did not so much as brush against the sleeve of Hux’s uniform. The door slid shut with its characteristic whisper; the locking gear clanked softly into place. Ren stood in the middle of the bare room, edges of his robes still clutched in his gloved hands, head bowed even more, not daring to look at Hux. 

“Sit,” Hux commanded, barely sparing a glance at Ren before seating himself at his desk. Gratifyingly, Ren immediately dropped to the floor, knees cracking loudly on the uninsulated metal. Hux barely held back a smile. 

Ren was silent as Hux read the rest of the report about the senator’s yacht; he neared the end, the description of the masterful flying of the yacht and the deadly accuracy of the aim of the Z-95s that accompanied it… and he paged back and read it again. Z-95s, common enough to have come from anywhere but a close enough predecessor to the X-wing that they could be flown easily by pilots used to those controls. The deliberate destruction of dozens of TIE fighters: not just damaging shots, the usual modus operandi of pirates, but kill shots. That of the Resistance. 

Hux rose slowly from his chair. Ren knelt on the floor in the middle of the room, hands spread flat on his knees, head bowed so low Hux could only see the dark curls of his hair and, as he paced in a slow circle around him, a pale sliver of the back of his neck where his collar gaped open. He stopped at Ren’s left side: his shining dark hair, trembling slightly; the slope of his back and the curve of his shoulders; his gloved hand gripping his knee. 

Hux kicked him, the tip of his boot catching Ren in the ribs just under his left arm and the force of the blow rocking Ren’s body to the side. Ren’s shocked gasp cut the silence of the room. Ren caught himself his elbow before his head could hit the floor. He looked up at Hux for a moment, eyes dark, mouth open, then averted his gaze again. 

Hux completed his path so he was again standing in front of Ren’s sprawled body. Ren had braced both palms on the floor, though he had made no move to sit up again. His face was still turned away.

The senator and his entourage had been forced to use the emergency escape pods on the yacht. Put the Resistance face to face with a person and they would ooze mercy, but they had no qualms about killing TIE pilots. The side of Hux’s boot connected with Ren’s diaphragm; not a damaging blow, but enough to knock the air from Ren’s lungs and cause him to curl in on himself, arms instinctively around his torso, wheezing slightly. 

Hux crouched next to Ren, watching him regain his breath. He caught Ren’s chin between his thumb and middle finger and turned Ren’s head toward him. Ren’s eyelashes fluttered as he worked his gaze up Hux’s body, at long last meeting Hux’s eyes. The dark curls of Ren’s hair framed his pale face. 

“Why should I show you mercy?” Hux whispered.

Ren’s mouth moved silently before his voice grated out of him. “Don’t.” 

Hux’s knuckles cracked against Ren’s jaw, snapping Ren’s head back. As Ren trembled on the floor, hair hiding his face, Hux examined his own hand. He stretched his fingers out straight, watching the tendons move under his skin. A drop of blood welled up from the broken skin of his split middle knuckle.

Hux rose to his feet again, still flexing his injured hand. He regarded Ren’s slumped form; Ren didn't move. Hux drove the sole of his foot into Ren’s ribs, knocking Ren onto his back. Ren braced himself with his elbows, body half-curled, face still turned from Hux. Hux kicked him in his side, eliciting a quickly muffled grunt of pain. Ren’s lower lip gleamed dark. When another kick was not forthcoming, Ren licked the blood on his lip and began to move one of his hands. Hux braced his heel on the floor beside Ren’s arm and gently pressed the flat sole of his boot to the narrowest part of Ren’s wrist, pinning it with the threat of pressure. Ren immediately stilled.

“No one would even know if I broke your nose,” Hux murmured, pressing a little harder on Ren’s wrist. Ren’s fingers twitched. “Except you, thinking about how you deserved it every time you struggled to take a breath, and me, remembering the feeling of my fist breaking your nose every time I looked at that fucking helmet.” 

Ren let out a little involuntary noise. 

“Pathetic.” Hux sighed. He removed his foot from Ren’s wrist and crossed the room to sit in his chair, facing Ren. “Well? Come here.” 

Ren gingerly dragged himself into a kneeling position, then braced his hands on the floor and rocked his weight forward to get his feet flat on the floor. He was about halfway to standing.

“Did I say you could stand?” Hux barked. Ren’s whole body twitched and he sank back down onto his knees. Hux did allow himself to smile, though Ren’s gaze was fixed on the floor.

Ren crawled across the room on his hands and knees, head bowed, toes of his boots scraping on the floor as he moved. When he reached the vee made by Hux’s spread knees, he tucked his legs under him and sat with his eyes fixed somewhere around Hux’s waist. 

“Take off your gloves.” Ren raised his hands and, with one, tugged at the fingertips of the opposite glove until he slid it off and dropped it on the floor. Uncovered, it was more obvious that his hands were trembling slightly. He dropped the other glove to the floor and his pale hands fluttered uncertainly beside Hux’s thighs. “You may touch,” Hux said imperiously. 

Almost hesitantly, Ren skimmed the backs of his fingers over the fabric at the inside of Hux’s knee. Ren flattened his palm to Hux’s thigh and slid it up, fingers splayed, eyes nearly closed. He turned his face toward the inside of Hux’s thigh, lips slightly parted. Hux wanted to twist his fingers in Ren’s hair and viciously pull. He wanted to grind Ren’s face into the floor with his boot heel. Ren’s slim fingers trembled as he unfastened Hux’s fly.

As Ren took his cock into his mouth, Hux put his hand on the side of Ren’s head, fingers carding through the soft curls of Ren’s hair, the curve of Ren’s skull under his fingertips. All at once he forced Ren’s head down, feeling the easy way Ren’s throat opened for him, tight and hot and wet. The press of Ren’s tongue and his surprised breath against Hux’s skin. Sweat prickled at the nape of Hux’s neck, the small of his back, under his arms; his uniform felt tight around his throat; his breathing quickened. One of Ren’s hands clutched at Hux’s leg. 

Hux drew Ren’s head back and then pressed it down again; he was almost fully hard now and he felt Ren’s throat spasm around the head of his cock. Ren curled his fingers around Hux’s thigh, fingertips digging in. As Hux eased Ren’s head up again, Ren licked up the length of his cock, cheeks hollowing, tongue working. His mouth was red and wet, open wide; his eyes were closed. He bobbed his head down of his own accord and Hux’s hips shuddered up, fucking into Ren’s throat. Ren choked a little but didn’t draw back. 

His hand still at the back of Ren’s head, sweat tangling Ren’s hair between his fingers, Hux held Ren in place as he fucked into his mouth. Every so often Ren’s throat would close around the head of Hux’s cock, his breath coming faster as he gagged, tears gathering at the corners of his dark eyelashes. Hux’s whole body felt warm, the hair at the back of his neck and his temples damp with sweat, each breath a shallow gasp. When he looked down at Ren he saw Ren’s pale skin flushed pink, tears glistening on his cheeks, his mouth and chin wet with his own saliva and Hux’s precome. 

Hux’s orgasm shuddered over him, seizing his muscles, predictable enough for him to tighten his grip on Ren’s hair and pull, wrenching Ren’s head back, throat bared, to spill the last spurt of ejaculate across Ren’s red mouth and damp chin, the sharp exposed line of his jaw. Ren’s eyelashes were spiky with tears. When Hux uncurled his fingers from Ren’s hair, Ren dropped his head forward, his tongue darting across his lower lip. 

Hux flexed his hand, dragging it, wet with sweat, across the thigh of his uniform trousers. His limbs were heavy and he did not push Ren away when Ren pressed his wrecked face to Hux’s knee, previously slack features now tight, gasping wetly as he clumsily got a hand into his own pants and worked his own cock. Ren’s whole body shook with erratic tremors and he made a desperate, choked sound. A final shudder wracked his body, then he was still, his breaths slowing and deepening. 

When Hux tucked his cock back into his trousers and fastened them, straightening his uniform as best he could while still seated, Ren jerked upright, readjusting his own clothing with tight, jerky movements and then running the back of one sleeve over his face: under his eyes, then across his mouth and chin. 

“Best make sure nobody sees you,” Hux said, voice rasping. He was curious as to what Ren’s voice would sound like, the damage he had done to Ren’s throat, but Ren just nodded sharply.

When Ren stood, he swayed for a split second before straightening his knees and back and neck. He clutched his gloves so hard the blue veins stood out on the back of his pale hand. His face, still red, still wet with tears and his saliva and Hux’s come, was downturned, his eyes averted as ever. For a heartbeat he stood before Hux, unmoving, hair disarrayed. Then he turned on his heel and crossed the room; he pressed the door unlock panel with his free hand; the door hissed open and he was gone.


End file.
